Lucid
by At A Venture
Summary: Lucid is a collection of short one-shots detailing the dreams of BTVS's main characters. Includes several ships/pairings.
1. Streets Without Names

_The following is the first in a series of short, one-shot dream fics. These fics are meant to be a bit unusual, a little bit cryptic, and generally enjoyable. Few of these pieces will have a specific season attached to them, except where noted. As always, comments and constructive criticism are welcomed. Enjoy! -Ataventure_

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A stream of smoky gray trickled through the uneven cobblestones, branching out in deltas along the city street. Sparse clouds of smoke wrinkled the dull sky, expelling steam from a dwindling fire. She wore black and gray, melting perfectly into the rotting city. The walls crumbled in the sleet as though made of clay, dribbling brick and debris onto the ancient road. Fires burned slowly, quietly, the flames barely peeking out through yellowed piles of refuse. Overhead, the clouds bunched together, blotting out the lonely rays of afternoon sun. She sighed, exhaling a puff of sooty vapor into the bland sky. Fingernails, broken and blackened, tucked a handful of soggy blond hair behind an ear pierced with two silver rings. The other hand fell loosely at her side, the fingers brushing against rain-soaked leather pants. White knuckles clenched a damp wooden stake, carved from the rotting remains of a white picket fence. Flakes of old paint stuck fast to her fingers. Thunder rolled heavily through the clouds.

Beneath a pair of shining black boots, the cobblestones echoed a heavy, plodding step. The slayer's darkened eyes, her dirt-streaked face rolled toward the sound. On the street far below her, at the slope of a stubby hill, a man trudged unwillingly toward her. He'd tilted his head toward the ground, leaving only a head of dark hair visible, a brief strip of eerily grey flesh. His shoulders hunched as he tackled the street like a mountain, each step slow and thoughtful. Despite the falling sleet, a tall umbrella remained furled, held at his side like a cane.

Glass shards sprinkled the street, the sound of their breaking delayed by a clap of thunder. From the gaping mouth of an abandoned building, three creatures took to the rain-swelled street. Her body moved slowly into a fighting stance, her chapped lips curling up into a sneer. They lolled toward her, lethargic in their prowl. Razor sharp incisors curled over cold, bluish lips. Their translucent flesh revealed empty blue veins darting over ropey musculature. Their hiss sent a cold chill rushing down her spine.

Her fist shot out, catching one in the teeth, his mouth dripping with day old blood. A gagging chuckle oozed from his mouth, a clean white tooth dropping down to replace the one he'd lost. Behind her, a second villain threw her own punch. Thick damp curls twirled around her once attractive face as she leaned into the hit, connecting aggressively with the slayer's cheek. Streaks of soaking blond locks lurched over her face, covering a swelling black bruise. She thrust out a leg, shoving the contorted body of a demon against the cold street. Twisting her hips, the slayer jumped into the air, kicking a heel into the glowering black eye of another pale faced fiend. Her hand clenched tighter around the stake, throwing it into the chest of her opponent. He burst into dust, showering the drenched street with a coating of vampire ash. A clawed hand shot out from behind, ripping at her face, tearing the skin. The slayer growled as drops of blood oozed to the cut. Dust sprinkled the street as she withdrew the weapon a second time. The third creature turned, whipping her thick mane against her filthy, smoke-streaked neck. The stake flew through the air like a dart, dust clogging the trickling streams of rain.

A drop of vibrant red blood rolled slowly down the slayer's face as she turned back toward the sloping street. A large, pale hand rose up from the sleeve of a black wool coat. His thumb brushed gently against her bruised face, wiping the blood away. He unfurled the umbrella and opened it as he pressed the handle into her paint-flecked hand. Where her lips were chapped and broken, his mouth was as smooth as a first kiss. As blackened as the world was, his face was as clean and white as falling snow might once have been. Warm brown eyes tucked beneath a heavy brow rose to meet her gaze.


	2. Hill of Tara

**Hill of Tara**

Fingers of cold tickled her bare shins as she knelt upon the eroded stone. The carvings had peeled away with time, but the essence of its spirit remained. A chanting song echoed in the back of her brain, like voices on the cold winter wind. The knoll, covered in ankle-high grass, was damp from the late morning rain. Her wet bare feet, poking out beneath a rough, damp skirt, trembled as the breeze swept over the field.

Beneath her, on the muddy trail that wound up the knoll, she watched a shepherd walk, carrying a heavy sack upon his shoulders. He'd bent down over the road, holding his pink cheeks away from the stiff wind. His walking stick sank into the dirty sludge, and freed itself with a mighty squelch as he took another step.

Willow leaned out across the great stone. A sensation of awareness, of familiarity crept over her shoulders and sank down the face of her chest. Goose flesh teased the back of her arms, while an uneasy longing pulled at her larynx. The wind rose up from the foot of the hill, splashing a mane of thick red hair over her eyes. The shepherd was obscured, her vision blinded.

Angry hands clutched at the fiery curtain, brushing it away. He was upon her, in front of her, standing upon the hilt of the knoll. His short red locks rose up toward the grey sky like poppy blossoms stretched toward the sun. He was a small man, with large, well-worn hands, and an easy stance. His neck curved sensuously into muscled shoulders, and long, ropey arms. Thin hips supported a triangular torso, and succulent pale skin covered him throughout.

His lips were pale pink, curved into a lazy, approving smile, and his nose reminded her of a hound's, sculpted to find her in the dark. But in his eyes, she found compassion and concern. Pools of bright blue stared down into her soul, supporting the darkness and cradling the light. In Oz's body, standing upon the windy knoll, she found Tara's eyes staring back at her.


End file.
